


Pork Sausage

by crookedneighbour



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fat Shaming, First Time, Food, Food Porn, Force-Feeding, M/M, Obsession, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Size Kink, Slut Shaming, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ramsay force feeds Theon some sausage. Literally. </p><p>...Okay, well that too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pork Sausage

Ramsay glanced up from his table in the dungeon. Theon just glowered at him from the cross, the ingrate. Ramsay had been bringing him perfectly fine meals for the past few days, and the stubborn little kraken had refused him.

At this rate Theon would be useless him to him. He'd grow so weak he wouldn't have the strength for Ramsay's games. He'd probably pass out from the pain of the next finger he'd take. The idiot probably thought dying from starvation would be easier and nicer. Ramsay could be nice. He was being nice.

He'd brought Theon meals that were more suited to a lord than a prisoner, and the bitch had spat in his face. Called him a monster even. Today he had brought him a perfectly fine breakfast, and he would make sure Theon finished it.

"You haven't been eating, Theon," chided Ramsay. He gestured at the platter of food. "It's not poisoned."

Ramsay lifted one of the thick pieces of bread and took a bite from it. He smacked his thick lips as it went down.

"It's very good, even."

Theon's scowl deepened.

"I don't want anything from you, bastard," he spat.

Ramsay felt a seed in his gut, something dark and fiery.

"What did you say?" he snapped. Ramsay closed the distance between them.

Theon stared back at Ramsay, and for a moment he looked like a true Ironborn, not just the little lost squid raised amongst wolves. There was a defiance in him. It would need to be crushed if Theon were to ever truly be his.

"I don't want anything from you. Bastard," repeated Theon, even as Ramsay's lips were almost against his.

That did it.

Ramsay grabbed him by the chin with one hand, while stuffing a chunk of bread into Theon's mouth.

"You will take what I give you, and you will like it," snarled Ramsay.

Theon choked and struggled as the food blocked his breath. He tried to bite down as two of Ramsay's fingers forced the bread further back, but Ramsay's grip on his chin only tightened.

"Now be a good boy and swallow," ordered Ramsay, in a low tone.

Theon obeyed, crumbs scattering across his face as Ramsay pulled back. Ramsay followed the motion through Theon's neck and down to his chest. He could be so graceful when he behaved. In time Ramsay'd get plenty of use out of him. Then Theon's head dropped, and he panted slowly.

Oh, he was hungry alright, no matter how he tried to hide it from Ramsay. He had liked it even, getting to eat while still pretending he was some defiant son of a king. Ramsay studied the meal carefully. Fried eggs sat atop the thick slices of bread. There was thick cheese sauce in a small bread trench, and greasy sausage was darkened skin nestled next to it.

Ramsay picked up the slice of bread and egg, and placed his other finger under Theon's chin. Theon raised his head with the gesture, and side eyed him with eyes full of hate. _So willfull..._

Theon didn't say anything this time, but he didn't have to. Such glances were just asking to be wiped from him. Almost like he wanted Ramsay to humiliate him. Needed it.

Ramsay smirked at this and spread his grasp over theon's chin again.

The egg's didn't go in as easy, thick yellow yolk oozing over both Ramsay's fingers and Theon's mouth. In the fight it dribbled down from lips, and ran down his chin. Theon's lips were stained yellow, flecks of solid sections mixed in. The bread had gone down with more ease, softened by mixture of fluids.

Ramsay pulled his fingers back a trail of saliva hanging from them.

A slow gurgling rumble rose from Theon's belly. His body betrayed him. The little liar _had_ liked it. He probably liked having Ramsay's fingers in his mouth as well. The way he had sucked on them, letting his teeth graze against them. The savage had even bitten at him a little, trying to play coy.

A knot of jealously twisted in Ramsay's stomach. Theon had probably done this before. Seduced men with false protests and secret little gestures. Maybe that's how the slut had kept Ned Stark from taking his head all these years. He'd probably fucked every man in Winterfell by now.

Ramsay licked his own fingers clean, then leaned back in, letting his lips rest by Theon's temple.

"You're such a messy eater aren't you?" he hissed. Ramsay's left hand snaked down Theon's chest, he was all skin and bones. He let his hand rest on Theon's groin. "More like some common whore, than the Prince of Winterfell."

Theon's hips thrashed and wiggled, against the gesture, but all it did was give Ramsay a firmer grasp. He gave Theon a knowing squeeze then turned his attention back to the meal.

Theon felt sick to his stomach. The food had eased the pain of hunger, but Ramsay had only disgusted him. He knew what the bastard had in mind for him. He didn't realize it right away, but it became apparent quickly. It was in the way he smiled, or the way his breath caught when Theon cried. And now, when the bastard had touched him, _he had touched him_ , something sickening had moved inside him. Something low and twitching.

He had always been weak in that way. He liked girls, as any man should. But Ramsay, wasn't a girl. He was a man. A monster. One that Theon would kill someday. He wasn't--

Theon didn't look at him. His lips felt sticky as the egg began to dry. It mingled with the blood and filth, leaving another layer of film on him.

Ramsay prodded his chest firmly. Old wounds throbbed with pain.

"Now I'm going to try this again, and you'll be neater this time," he ordered. There was whimsy in his voice. "Or I'll pull those nasty teeth from your head."

Ramsay would look for any excuse to hurt him. Theon knew that. And his teeth.... He could still wield a sword with the fingers he had, but to be unable to eat on his own. Or to lisp like a child. He couldn't stand that.

Ramsay plucked the sausage from the plate and dipped it into the bread trench. The cheese dripped from it, oozing down his fingers in thick globs. Ramsay prodded the drenched sausage against Theon's tightly shut lips. The rich scent of the cheese made his stomach turn again, and the perverse leer on Ramsay's face made it all the more humiliating.

Then of course, if he lost his teeth maybe he could finally die though. Be done with this living hell. He could at least die like the Iron Born were supposed to. If he was stubborn enough could he make his way back to the drowned god's halls?

"Come now. Open your mouth," cooed Ramsay softly. His free hand gave Theon's inner thigh a rough squeeze.

Theon gasped when Ramsay's hand moved further up. He stroked at Theon's cock through his trousers, trailing his hand up and down the length of his flaccid shaft.

Theon started to stiffen. It had been a long time since he had been truly touched and attended to there and Ramsay did so with an attention to detail that sent Theon's heart pounding.

How could he be enjoying this?

Ramsay slid he sausage into his mouth, bobbing it back and forth slowly. Warm cheese smeared his face while the grease ran from the corner of his mouth. It felt like both ends of him were being probed and invaded.

Ramsay sneered.

"I bet you'd like it if I fattened you up," he spat. "Give me something to squeeze when I fuck you."

Theon squirmed uncomfortably, the soft pounding in his groin an the rich food making him feel nauseous. He'd always heard the men talking about what Ramsay liked to do to prisoners, but he' always hoped that it was only the girls.

"I bet you'd squeal even louder than my father's plump pet."

He gave Theon a knowing squeeze. Ramsay then pushed the meat further down Theon's throat, his tongue jutting forward as he began to gag.

"Now, eat it."

Theon did as he was told and chewed off as much of the sausage as he could manage. Ramsay slowed the speed of his hand and took a moment to look over Theon. Food, filth, and dried blood covered him, an some of the fight had left his eyes. Ramsay wiped his hand off on Theon's trousers and smirked. Theon looked down in humiliation, his cock still aching from Ramsay's touch. It had felt so right to be touched, but not like this. Not being treated as this bastard's woman.

"I think I'd like some dessert."

Relief filled Theon's limbs as Ramsay took him down from the cross. He stumbled to his feet. He was too weak to run, definitely too weak to fight. Ramsay would surely beat him for that.

Ramsay meanwhile was breathing hard. He lay a strong hand on Theon's wrist and forced another kiss onto him. Ramsay's tongue was warm and invasive, crushing their lips together.

"Try to run and I'll cobble you, whore," he warned Theon, smiling all the while.

Theon didn't doubt it. Ramsay's eyes were wild, and he could feel the bastard's arousal when their bodies pressed together. How was he supposed to endure this? Ramsay pulled Theon through the halls of the Dreadfort stopping when he saw a serving girl.

"Bring some sweets for Theon and I to the Great Hall. And don't disappoint me."

Theon's wrist ached under Ramsay's firm grip. The candles in the hall were held by long skeletal hands, too much like his own already. Is that what his own hand would look like when Ramsay eventually stripped it clean?

Ramsay walked with a slight swing in his step, clearly pleased with the situation. Theon swallowed hard. Would it happen here? Where anyone could see? His cheeks flushed red with shame, and anger. And when Ramsay began to tug Theon into his seated lap, Theon resisted.

"No," he croaked, looking away from the bastard. There were still faint pulses near his groin, and he didn't want that again. He wouldn't be another man's slave. He was still an Iron Born, with the blood of kings in his veins.

Ramsay ground his teeth and rose from the chair. His free hand gently pushed the hair from Theon's face, his own scowling visage hovering infront of his. His face was a furious grimace, but the worst of it was his eyes. His eyes looked directly into Theon's and there was something new in them now.

Ramsay shoved Theon down over the table, twisting Theon's arm behind his back, while firmly gripping his skull. The pain of the hardwood against his face shot through Theon's whole body. Ramsay's hips were placed against his backside.

"You are sorely mistaken if you think you can refuse me, Greyjoy," he hissed, grinding Theon's face further into the table.

Tears came to Theon against his will. He couldn't give him the satisfaction. It just hurt so much though. Everything hurt and he could feel something warm and stiff through Ramsay's trousers.

"You're mine now," Ramsay whispered against his neck. He let out a low groan as he started to thrust slowly.

Tears ran down Theon's face, hot and wet as he heard someone enter the hall. One of the girls. One of the girls was seeing him like this. They would know. Everyone would would know. They would see him and know he was the man Ramsay had made his woman.

The girl didn't look at Theon or Ramsay. She simply placed the tray down and left as quickly as she could. _She was shaking._ The reality of the situation dawned on Theon, a slow horror crawling from a cloud. _He's done this to the girls here. He's raped and killed the girls here._

Theon gagged and Ramsay stilled for a moment.

"Do I disgust you? Is that why you're gagging?"

Yes. Theon was disgusted. Disgusted by Ramsay's touches, disgusted by the food, disgusted by the friction, by the way he had felt when Ramsay touched him. It was all disgusting.

But Theon said nothing. Fighting is what got him pushed against the table. Another no who knew what Ramsay would do.

"You liked my touch _plenty_ before," Ramsay rasped. His breath tickled Theon's neck and a wet kiss followed. "The only disgusting one here is you."

Ramsay moved his hand from Theon's head and reached for a small pastry soaked with honey

"Stuffing your face like a hungry animal-- Gods, you're even less than an animal," he continued.

Ramsay sighed pressing the treat to Theon's lips.

"I'm going to have to teach you a lesson for being such a glutton," he chided.

Theon opened his mouth this time. It was sweet doughy and difficult to down. Ramsay softened his hold for a moment to turn Theon to face him. The look on his face was an eerie rictus. He drew a small bowl of honey and a ladle to them.

"Please," muttered Theon. "It won't happen again, my lord... Please. Don't punish me."

Something soft and out of place entered Ramsay's face for a moment. But as he drew the ladle from the bowl it quickly faded. Slow golden streams fell from the spoon, the liquid landing first on Theon's lips. It had been warmed slightly and had become slightly thinner because of it. Then down his neck and bare chest. Ramsay smirked as Theon winced. Under another circumstance it might have felt nice.

Ramsay trailed his finger up Theon's chest, letting the honey cover his fingers. He twirled his fingertips over Theon's nipple, pinching an teasing at them until they hardened. Theon's reputation did suit him after all. Later he'd graze over them with the knife before flaying his fingers more. Ramsay presented his sticky fingers to Theon

He suckled on them as well as any wench, first just taking the tip with coy reservation. Then two his knuckles with low throaty whimpers, his tongue flicking back and forth. Ramsay chuckled and withdrew his fingers.

"It's not a punishment if you enjoy it, slut," he sighed.

Ramsay drew the ladle again, squeezing Theon's mouth open.

Theon began to hoke and pant as the honey filled his mouth. He couldn't swallow fast enough and the taste was too sweet. His gums and teeth hurt from it, and the nicks in his mouth stung fiercely.

As his body began to wrack and shake Ramsay stopped.

"You see, Theon, there are much better things to do with your mouth than stuff yourself," he cooed, licking his own lips. "Besides you're too filthy for me to take from behind."

Theon swallowed. Ramsay knocked him to his knees easily, then loosened his belt. He placed the leather around Theon's neck, tightening it to form a makeshift collar and leash. He tugged it tight and Theon gasped as his head grew dizzy.

Then his trousers. He was already visibly hard and he adjusted them just enough to loosen his cock.

Hand's still doused in honey, he pumped his shaft eagerly leaving a thin residue. Theon looked up at Ramsay for something, but there was nothing there for him. No compassion or recognition of his humanity, only lust and a crooked sadistic grin.

With one hand in Theon's hair and another on the belt, he guided Theon's lips to the tip of his cock. His full lips and soft mouth were even better here. His mouth was slick and heated from the honey still, an it felt like everything below his waist was pounding with pleasure. His pulse extended from his thighs to ticks in his toes.

"Oh you're still hungry aren't you? I knew you couldn't wait to have my cock down your throat."

Theon's lips clamped tighter and his blue eyes seemed emptier, but sucked so much harder now. Gods, he had Ramsay so close already. Ramsay let all hiss muscles tighten and contract a heat rising in his belly and his temples.

He brought the belt closer to him and Theon began to grow red in the face, his eyes bulging slightly. The sight of it brought him to climax. His whole body shook.

He looked to Theon expectantly eyes had-lidded. He swallowed like a good boy, and Ramsay's head felt fuzzy and heavy. With a proper guidance there was hope for his plaything yet.

"You're filthy," he mumbled. It was true. All the food, blood, sweat and dirt had mixed together on him. He smelled awful. Reeked even.

Ramsay smiled to himself. Theon had curled in on himself on the floor and had continued his womanly crying. He'd still need a flaying or two, but he had proved he would be loyal.

"Get up. It's back to the dungeons for you."


End file.
